


M is for murder, m is for model

by pyakpyaknation



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, may or maynot be beta'd, sorry unu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 14:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17205056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyakpyaknation/pseuds/pyakpyaknation
Summary: Based off my prompt idea: "winwin as a thief that likes to lure in rich men and after sleeping with them he kills them and takes their money but one day hes surprised when model, johnny, counters, but johnnys smitten oops so they both become criminals and do shit oops"I've changed the plot from the prompt, but you can only tell if you give it a read?





	M is for murder, m is for model

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seijhohofficial](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=seijhohofficial).



> Dedicated to @seijohofficial on twt uwu, for if they did not ask for me to do smthg about the prompt then I wouldn't be here with 3.4k (not a lot I know rip)
> 
> TW//
> 
> There are minor mentions of killing/murder, slightly graphic, if you may so describe them. I'd rather let you know just in case.
> 
> P.S. My apologies if this sucks

The sound of the shot resonated in the colonial mansion located not so far out of Hong Kong. Sicheng blinked boredly as he brought up the beretta 92 up to to his lips, a smile gracing his lips, blowing imaginary smoke from it’s mouth.

Just another day, another night. Another way of living— pitifully or rather, not pitifully, for the serial.

Light filtering in from the sun rising in the east illuminates the side of the 21 year old’s face.

It’s 5:30 am.

Mr. Kong should get to work now.

Blood stains the fine silk sheets and soft cotton of the ostrich feather pillows and Mr. Kong looks perfectly asleep.

Sicheng takes one look at his watch and turns his heel, picking up the monogram LV suitcase ready at the threshold. Simply walking away with another day’s worth of expenses.

—

Sicheng quirks his lips.

Another young entrepreneur. He grazes his eyes over the 20-something year old laughing to his side, margarita in his hand.

He blinks innocently. _Shouldn’t be tough tonight_.

Their backs bump along the various modern furnishings of the penthouse. Mouths melding together as Sicheng fumbles at David’s cotton armani, smile lazily taking over his face. Unbeknownst to the night ahead.

. . .

Sicheng rolls over on his side, the silver hands on the wall displaying the dead of night. 

_The dead_. Right… Sicheng should get up now- maneuvering onto his stomach, his lengthy legs reach over the edge of the low leveled bed  
onto the cold wood panels.

He stealthily slips on his garments from before, before walking to his Yves purse and pulling out a small pill.

In places like this, he can’t easily throw black bags with corpses inside over the river’s edge. But, he can leave without having to get his hands dirty. Quite unfortunately.

The lithe male leaves the penthouse, the elevator bell resonating within the shaft as he descends into the still dark morning.

—

Johnny Suh, 23, a model at one of Korea’s famous modeling agencies, SMA, and, single. 

And a bit reckless despite the responsibility he knows he looks like he holds.

He recently just landed a deal with SMA signaling a packed schedule for the next three to four weeks. SMA was great for connections and their built reputation on the global scale. Having come from Chicago himself made him all quite the perfect candidate for the agency’s search for an ambassador to represent them in the West.

Johnny’s been walking amateurly working with trainers day and night up to this grand opportunity. He’s got to be thankful for his longtime friend and advisor, Doyoung, for keeping up with his antics.

He’ll forever be grateful for him as he continues to strut through endless gateways.

The 6’1 model turns around and looks into the mirror in his hotel room. It’s been 6 months as a rookie model and now he can say he’s got a bit up his sleeve.

Johnny lightly tugs on the sleeve of his jacket, smiling briefly at his reflection before pocketing his wallet and putting on his Rolex.

He grabs the remote on the bedside table to switch off the tv and throws it onto the bed, something about a serial killer on the loose. Something he tenses about for a split second but relaxes as he pivots and heads out the door. He can’t be bothered to worry, the authorities will handle it. The _high alert_ warning slips past his threshold of hearing.

. . .

The handsome Korean-American male stepped onto the luxury rooftop of Seoul’s famous high rise corporate buildings. He plays with the sleeve of his jacket to get himself into the state of mind as he glanced around to find a spot to start at. 

“Behave yourself Seo, I won’t be there because the agency asked me to help accompany and fill-in for Taeil-hyung for TY’s photoshoot in Milan,” Doyoung had proclaimed, giving Johnny the _look_.

“ _Suh_ , Dons please.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say Seo.”

Johnny scoffs at the memory, yeah, he was into men too, but could he really help but be a charmer? He could practically feel his friend slash manager’s piercing eyes from the Mediterranean at the mere thought. He shakes his head out of his small reverie and straightens up.

“Hey Seo,” Johnny sighs on the inside, “so good to see you here. Was expecting the Chicago prodigy to come through~”

Johnny grins at the other model and shakes his hand firmly whilst maintaining eye contact, _eye contact is key to connecting_ , “Hey Nakamoto. Nice to see the sunshine on such a lovely night,” he replies smoothly. He doesn’t miss the flash of red dust over the shorter’s face before they head over to the bar.

“Hey, they only like to call me sunshine because of my smile but what’s the point when I’m not even smiling in a quarter of my career?” Yuta exclaims, downing a glass of a vodka.

 _He was going hard already,_ Johnny observed as he takes a flute of champagne for himself and sips from it.

“I’m sure there will be more opportunities for you along the way, especially with the new humanitarian campaign I’ve heard your agency is collaborating with JYP on,” Johnny adds his two cents, eyes glazing the mellow but upbeat environment.

The pool held some swimmers while most people seemed to be lounging on high tables or standing around the edge of the rooftop. There was a DJ who was playing lo-fi beats and he could see there were also people chatting away indoors in what he assumed was a contemporary studio. Neat.

He and the latter talked a bit more before parting ways, Johnny tipping his nearly empty flute at the other’s flushed face as he headed inside.

He passed ladies, gents, businessmen, businesswomen, and moguls, stopping every now and then to talk with them. Building connections, is what it was about. Everytime he’d leave the conversation he’d send his dazzling smile. And not forgetting to give them his number for further contact, to which he was looking forward to. Nevermind the imaginary Dons on his shoulder, he stopped by the bar inside to pick up another flute before heading over to a high table.

He placed his champagne down and looked outside, it had been awhile since he had some alone time despite being at the hotel by himself and without his manager friend for another week.

It was a little odd that he’d chosen this time at a bustling party to sit down and think.

“Seoul’s skyline reminds me of Wenzhou’s a bit. Not exactly, but still familiar,” a deep unfamiliar voice spoke into his temporary solidarity.

Johnny swiveled a bit to look at the figure now seated across from him, an empty margarita glass placed in front.

He had never seen this man before but he couldn’t help but admire the man’s small face, smooth skin that stretch over his high cheekbones, red plump lips that look inviting all of a sudden..

“I’m Winwin,” the male smiles as he reaches across to shake Johnny’s hand.

Johnny’s stunned for a moment that this ethereal of a person is in front of him and in this moment he doesn’t think he’s all that of a charmer anymore.

“Johnny Suh,” he finally says, hand meeting halfway out of his stupor. The other giggles a little, even his laugh is cute.

Cute? Johnny licks his lips nervously, he hadn’t seen the other around before in the time he was working nor keeping up with the latest rookies.

“I’m not a model, but I do some freelancing on the side,” the gorgeous looking being admits sheepishly.

Johnny’s entranced somehow as he downs the last of his champagne, he’s not a lightweight but with the way the other radiates makes him feel so.

“I heard you were a big and prominent model… and it’s such an honor to meet you-!” Winwin gushes a bit, shyly looking elsewhere.

Cute. If there was one thing he definitely was weak for, it was cute things. Cute animals, cute decorations, cute cartoons, cute people. The whole variety- maybe that was why he secretly doted on the absentee manager hyung who also happened to be four inches shorter than him. But by the looks of it, Winwin seemed to be quite tall himself yet shorter than Johnny.

Johnny let out a low chuckle, “Oh I’m flattered, really. It’s been barely six months into my career and I already have a big fan?” he flirts casually.

He watches the other blush deeply under the dim lights, “Really..”

“Hmm, Winwin, huh?”

“Yes, well, it’s what most people call me around here. It’s easier than my-“ the male abruptly stops to call over a server to grab a drink of the tray. He doesn’t push it, Johnny himself has always been respectful of other’s discomforts. It’s why he prefers Suh over Seo having struggled growing up with mispronunciations and the like. 

Winwin eagerly drinks the glass of wine in one-go, prompting Johnny to raise an eyebrow at it before shaking it off.

“Sorry I just get insecure about my name sometimes,” the latter mutters, licking his lips for any remaining wine around his mouth. Winwin chooses that time to look up into Johnny’s eyes.

It seems that Winwin’s hand is just out enough on the table for Johnny to slide his hand over it. He can feel the heat rushing to his neck and ears as he does so, the obnoxious voice of his friend telling him _this is NOT a good idea Seo, I told you to **behave-**_

Winwin blinks sultrily at Johnny, lips jutted out a little more than a few seconds ago, “If you don’t mind—“

“Yes.”

 

It doesn’t take long for them to stumble back into Winwin’s hotel room, lips attached onto each other as they finally enter. Johnny remembers he has a strict image to uphold and hopefully the “friendly” glances and small talk he and Winwin exchanged look believable.

Johnny trails hot kisses up the other’s beautiful neck as they rush to discard the unnecessary fabric between them.

Winwin whimpers and Johnny backs the male onto the large queen sized bed, hovering over him. Winwin reaches up to pull the model in for another makeout session as he wraps his legs around Johnny’s torso.

The night’s still young and this one night stand was definitely going to be hush hush.

—

The 5’11 male manages to stand up, shakily steadying himself before he slips on his boxers and a pair of ripped jeans. In addition, discarding his clothes from last night into a small Walmart bag and stuffing it inside his carry-on as he stretches. 

It’s 4 am. The air looks crisp outside, the city never sleeps but the travel on the roads aren’t as busy. It’s a perfect opportunity to not get caught.

Sicheng never gets caught. But fuck, he forgot about the hotel room. And he just ran out of pills. He really doesn’t have anything… his eyes scour the room for any type of weapon but it’s fruitless.

It’ll be too much of a hassle. His gaze lands back onto his bag. He does have a knife, but it’d be too messy.

Messy.

Sicheng likes messy, because he can always be sure to clean. If it passed anyone’s mind when he was younger and his compulsion to keep things tidy, it surely was past the time.

The lanky male slips on a hoodie finally and looks over to the model fast asleep.

Built shoulder peeking out from the covers and loose hair fallen over his peaceful face.

 _Shame_ , Sicheng thinks. He really was the best looking one out of all of them. 

He doesn’t have time to ogle any longer. Sicheng goes to his bag and pulls out a syringe he finally recalls having from the side pocket momentarily halting dropping it back in the bag. He quietly slinks to the other’s pants to check for anything, delight splayed on his face as he flips through the wallet.

$500 and several Visa cards, a bank card- useless, and the Rolex on the floor by the bed. He figures he could sell the Armani suit but they don’t fare much if they’ve been used. He can always dry clean he reassures himself. After all, he is, good, at cleaning.

Sicheng places the money into his bag and picks up the syringe that was carelessly dropped in his bag, filled with the concoction of sleeping pills, chlorine, and rat poison simply put. The handsome and charming model would die in a few days with the sedative to keep him in place.

All he had to do was to inject it into the latter, easy.

But Sicheng dislikes direct contact as a method the most. It doesn’t guarantee success and it poses a risk to his plan and getting caught. But this isn’t his first time either.

So when Sicheng turns to put through his plan he’s met with a looming figure pointing a knife at him.

His knife to be precise. _Fuck,_ he must’ve left it in the bedside drawer when he was playing with it the night before. _Idiot_ is all he can think because now he has a bigger problem on his hands.

“Winwin what the fuck is going on and who exactly the fuck are you? _Winwin_.” the young model demands, tired eyes replaced with alert and threat.

Sicheng is expressionless as he toys with the syringe in his hand.

“You’re supposed to be sleep-“

“Fuck the bullshit Winwin, who really are you.” Johnny demands louder, edging close to where his phone would be.

Good thing Sicheng has it.

He rolls his eyes, “Baby don’t be surprised,” Sicheng says sweetly walking towards the poorly armed model.

In swift motions, Sicheng easily disarms him and gains possession of the knife, holding it down in a neutral position. The last thing he wants to do is to cause struggle and commotion at four in the morning, now almost five.

But Johnny doesn’t rush to call 911, or call the hotel receptionist, or yell for help. It’s suddenly strange for the younger.

“Don’t you know?” he continues in a soft tone, eyes still trained on the model in another poor defensive posture.

“I’m who you should be looking out for. Danger. Does high alert ring a bell?” Sicheng smiles and laughs casually.

Johnny’s eyes light up like he’s a deer caught in the headlights and he freezes. 

The evening before he left his room all of sudden rushing back to him, the news flooding through his mind and his heart escalates.

“No..”

Johnny looks ready to lunge at him, like he’s built like a toothpick. Like he’s fragile. When he’s fucking not. And that’s what’s fun when others allow him pass their welcome mats. They think he’s weak. But he’s got so much other things in him that make up for his frame.

“But yes Johnny.” Sicheng says, eyes set.

“I am,” Sicheng enunciates clearly, “but since you’ve decided to be the bad boy here and wake up, I suppose you _could_ be the one to witness your own death.”

Johnny doesn’t hesitate to lunge at Sicheng, and pin him to the ground.

And somehow, Sicheng’s muscles are weak under the latter’s touch. He feels weak. No.. this can’t. He can’t.

Sicheng kicks Johnny’s stomach, throwing him back before he rummages and grabs at his useless glock. He aims at the other with fierce determination.

Johnny quickly recovers, looking at the gun in Sicheng’s hands. He lets out an empty laugh.

“Will you really fire here?” Johnny says facetiously.

And he’s right. He can’t. _Again._

Sicheng drops the gun, letting it hit the floor before he crawls over to Johnny and holds the other’s face, Johnny all the while letting him. _Why so easily?_

Sicheng leans in and eagerly kisses the latter, the latter wrapping his arms around his waist as he returns the kisses.

“I,” Sicheng runs his hands through Johnny’s hair, “really dont,” Johnny leans down to suck a hickey on Sicheng’s jaw, “want to,” Sicheng digs his nails into Johnny’s still bare shoulder, “kill you,” he finally pants as Johnny disconnects his lips from the other.

Johnny looks at him with an unreadable expression. Sicheng knows this could be the end to his spree. He knows that the moral compass of this six month old model will send him behind bars forever. But grappling at the edges, Sicheng sighs, looking down between them.

“I won’t,” Johnny says softly.

Sicheng shakes his head and turns to move away but is pulled back faced towards Johnny.

“I want to be with you,” Johnny says.

Sicheng turns again but immediately turns back and gasps, “What?!”

“Johnny you can’t-“

“I do.”

“you have a whole career and life ahead of you! I’m just a pathetic serial-“ Sicheng’s voice breaks.

He’s supposed to be manipulating. And empty. And cold. And calculative. He’s supposed to kill, steal, and run. He’s supposed to be a psychopath. But can he ever fix that? Does he want to-?

Johnny pulls Sicheng to his chest, caressing the soft brown locks.

“I said what I said,” Johnny reaffirms, hiding the uncertainty in the back of his throat.

His heart and mind race against each other. What is he doing? Is he really willing to give up his dream? His living? Those six months he’s worked hard for? Doyoung? His friends and family? To go with a psychopathic killer? What is he thinking?-

Johnny thinks deeply as he continues to run his hand up and down Sicheng’s back, the 21 year old’s tears wetting his skin causing him to shiver a little.

“Did you really?” Sicheng pulls away to search for the answer in Johnny’s eyes.

Johnny’s silence but serious eyes push and pull Sicheng’s thoughts. But it’s enough.

Johnny lets Sicheng go and he packs up his things, Johnny meanwhile getting dressed. There are a whole line of messages from various people that he’d met at the party and his manager of course along with some missed calls.

Would he really be willing to let go for him?

“It’ll be hard, you’ve already built a name for yourself. Getting away like me who’s a nobody in this world but a killer is impossible,” Sicheng finally states, zipping up the carry-on.

Johnny looks up and pockets his phone. He’s right, the reputation and public figure that he is would make it difficult for him to get away with this.. scheme of things.

“Then at least the most I could do, is not call on you,” Johnny says looking sincerely at Sicheng whose eyes are filled with hurt and choices.

The silence speaks for Sicheng and he heads to the door.

“But can we still try?” he croaks out, a hint of desperation underlying Johnny’s request.

The figure pauses at the door and turns, “...Try?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yes, try,” and this time Johnny steps closer to Sicheng.

A pregnant pause and then the flicker of eyes over at the other, “If I’m in town I’ll have you know.”

And like that, Sicheng is gone.

—

4 months later. . .

Not a day has gone by without Johnny thinking about the killer. It churns his stomach to think he’s slept, he’s quite matter of fact, _in love_ , with him. Yet it still sits right with him, something that pulls him to Sicheng.

He hadn’t heard from the male since, and he knew it was for the better.

“You’re up next Seo!” the director’s voice calls from somewhere farther up ahead.

“Go get’em Suh,” his manager’s voice chuckles into his ear earning him a slap on the back.

Johnny moves forward in line to walk for Tom Ford’s Spring collection, breathing in and out to calm himself. The confidence he truly exudes now evident as he steps onto the runway, eyes set dead ahead with one hand in his pocket.

The flashes are not new to him and therefore don’t blind him as much. He takes a few seconds to pause at the end of the catwalk before turning around and heading back to put on the next piece.

Day in, day out. This is part of his routine.

. . .

A slim male sporting a Charm’s black turtleneck with suspenders and leather pants watches through his circle rimmed glasses as models file in and out. 

Gucci, Versace, Moncler, Polo, Hilfiger, Kenzo. 

He’s seen them all, stuffed inside luggages and closets, sifting through his fingers as he tugs on the lifeless body that wears it.

Tom Ford- he smiles subtly to himself as he watches a familiar model walk by.

And even Tom Ford too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a bunch for reading !!~ I hope you all enjoyed this short fic, oh my god, I did it again. I will try my bestest to update the fang and fur fic, not sure if it'll be before the New Year or not but look forward to it!
> 
> My [cc](https://curiouscat.me/thotwinaction) and my [twt](https://twitter.com/milkyteawin) :o


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